“You were there,” I say, breathless. “You were there the night Rachel died.”
Her features harden and the anger emanating from her is palpable.
“Oh my God.” I shake my head. “You did it. Heather didn’t kill Rachel, did she?”
A hint of a laugh drums through her chest.
“Heather didn’t care for Rachel.” Her nostrils flare as she says the words. “But I hated her.”
“You hit her over the head with a rock. You killed Rachel just like you killed Heather. This was all some twisted form of revenge.”
“Twisted?” Her voice pitches. “How dare you take something so necessary and turn it in an effort to make me sound as if I was the psychotic one in this equation. Those girls—they killed my sister.”
“Heather”—her name slips from me in a whisper as I struggle to piece it all together—“she was obsessed with the afterlife. They all were.”
She nods. “And they wanted to die, just a little.” She averts her eyes. “Or as my sister put it in her journal, just enough. They wanted to see what waited on the other side. Guess who Heather and Rachel thought should go first?”
“They were part of a club. The Post Vitam.”
Her lips part. “My God, how do you know all this?”
“And you’re right,” I say, ignoring her question. “For whatever reason, Aileen went first.”
“They made her,” she huffs at the thought. “Or they asked and she was too nice to say no. She was a people pleaser. They killed her mercilessly. Rachel admitted it. Heather held a towel over my sister’s face while Rachel pinned her down. I couldn’t let them get away with it. They took Aileen away from me, from the planet. They murdered her. And I was going to make sure they both met with the same unfortunate fate.”
She takes a blind step forward.
Sherlock rips out a few rabid barks, but Kiki is unfazed.
“I had to do it, Bizzy. My sister—she deserved better than this.”
“Your sister would never have wanted you to harm anyone.” The words come from the deepest part of me.
“I don’t care,” Kiki riots as an unnatural icy breeze blows past us, mussing our hair, knocking most of the cosmetics right off the table.
“That’s her,” I hiss as I give a quick glance around. “That’s your sister. Both Aileen and Rachel were haunting Heather. Aileen—she’s here.”
“No,” Kiki shouts as she swipes that cleaver off the table and strangles it in a menacing fashion. “She’s not here, Bizzy. She’s dead. Just like you’ll be soon enough.”
Kiki lunges at me with that blade in her hand and Sherlock jumps between us, doing his best to knock her down. Kiki swipes him away with her free hand and sends him flying to her right as if he were a ragdoll.
Bizzy! Sherlock barks as he charges for her again, and this time she swings the cleaver in his direction, nearly taking off one of his ears.
I pick up the chair next to me and toss it at her, giving Sherlock the chance to get away.
Kiki pauses a moment to get her bearings as she pants my way.
“Kiki”—I say her name as sweetly as I can—“this ends tonight. You don’t need to carry this burden anymore. We can get you help. I have people you can talk to.”
“Like that detective you’re engaged to?” The words riot out of her as she lunges my way.
I turn to run, but she catches me by the wrist.
She hoists the cleaver over her shoulder as if she were readying to take a powerful swing.
“If only you had waited another few days, none of this would have happened. You would have made a beautiful bride, Bizzy. And now, Heather has taken another life—yours.” Tears stream down her face, and her voice is thick as she struggles with her emotions. “I’ll make this quick. One blow to the head. I won’t make it hurt. I made sure it was quick for Rachel because she confessed. She apologized. She said killing my sister brought her great grief. But Heather—she was heartless right to the bitter end. She wanted me to let it go. She insisted it was all in the past. She wanted to move on, but Leeny couldn’t move on. Heather didn’t get that. She had to go, too. I made sure of it.”
“You planted all those cleavers around the inn to throw off the case, didn’t you?”
“No.” The word sails from her on the defense. “Why would I do that? I never wanted to scare anyone. I like the inn. I like you, Bizzy.”
“You were hoping to pin this on Bates,” I say.
“Or Jane, or Peter, or whoever the heck your boyfriend was willing to put away. I really don’t care anymore. I knew they would never prosecute anyone. I just needed the time to finish this shoot, collect my paycheck, and never be heard from in these parts again.”
“You were so close.”
“It’s still happening.”
“No, Kiki.” I pluck my wrist free with a violent jerk. “It’s not.” I run out of the tent like a lightning bolt and head for the murky darkness at the edge of the cove.
Kiki runs with a cry in her throat as her footfalls pound their way behind me.
Sherlock barks into the night as he runs a circle around her, jumping and biting, doing his best to slow her down, but she’s unstoppable in her fury.
Fish scampers ahead of me, and I can see the glowing waves as they crash down over the ebony shoreline. The moon is but a sliver, and the rest of the production company is too far to our left for me to cry out to them.
My foot catches on a rock, and I fly face-first into the sand. No sooner do I prop myself onto my elbows than that cleaver lands into the sand next to me with a heavy wallop.
Before I can process it, Kiki is on top of me, grunting as she tries to pin my legs down with her
